Page 3 of Shameless
His blue eyes seemed puzzled as he asked, “Why, what happened? Did you get a better job or get an offer as a partner somewhere else?”
I sat up. We weren’t friends, and his concern about me made me tense. Needing a few seconds, I swirled my herbal tea and added a pinch of lemon. Then I met his blue eyes and said, “I called you here to tell you… This isn’t so easy… But you’re going to be a father.”
His eyes widened. “Say it again.”
My breath caught in my throat. I hadn't expected him to take the wind out of my sails with those sexy, refined good looks of his and perfect manners. I squared my shoulders and said, “It’s honorable to tell you. I’m pregnant.”
He pressed his hand to his heart. “And it’s mine?”
There it was—the denial, the start of the end. Most people assumed that my mouth and my attitude of taking what I wanted indicated I was easy.
I folded my hands, glared at him, and said, “Despite the rumors, I don’t sleep with just anyone.”
“I believe you…” Michael said in that cute British tone of his that carried both judgment and shame. “But we’re not?—“
“I’m not looking for anything from you,” I said and moved my chair back because we were done and the real world was folding in on me. I lifted my chin and assumed I’d never see him again. “I just thought you needed to know that I’m pregnant and I’m keeping it, no matter what.”
He folded his hands on the table and stared at me. “Britney, I can’t talk about it in public, but we need to talk tonight because there are things about me that I’ve not told you.”
My heart needed to not hope for anything. Nothing he could tell me would change my plans. We were done. The next day, I would write my official resignation, put my condo on the market, and be out of Manhattan soon. For the moment, I sipped my water. He was right that I needed to know his medical history and anything relevant that had happened in his family, which he'd never spoken about. I met his gaze and decided he was right—better to end our fling in private.
I moved my chair closer to the table and nodded. “Okay. Come to my apartment at six if you think Charlie will let you out early.”
“Fuck Charlie. I’ll be there.”
My eyes widened. I hadn’t expected that outburst. I’d not known what to expect as Michael had never shared more than his hard body with me. We both stood as I said, “See you tonight, then.”
Then he hugged me and left money for the bill.
His arms around me were warm and safe and, for a moment, nice in that fleeting moment. Michael was gorgeous, neat, and always put together. If he’d not been a butler when I was focused on my corporate job plans, I’d have considered dating him, but that was impossible. I’d been stupid to ignore my heart’s desire to learn more about him.
And I hated regrets. Soon, I would have to face what life was going to be like as a single mom and merge the old me with the new no-nonsense me. I walked out of the restaurant, keeping my head high.
On my way out, my phone beeped. Since I'd told Michael, I texted my friends in the chat, I can’t meet for drinks anymore. I’m pregnant.
Hope wrote back first: WTF. Who’s the father?
I clutched the phone and stepped backward. I didn't want to get him fired as he’d sneaked out of the house during work hours whenever I’d called for him to come meet me. I shook my head and replied, Doesn’t matter. I’m going to put my condo up for sale soon, but first let’s all meet.
As I stepped into my one-bedroom condo, I gazed around. Everything was marble and hard edges, which was exactly what I'd thought I was.
Since I knew I had a baby though, I cringed. None of my life was good.
My phone beeped, and my downstairs doorbell rang. I read a message from Kelly: Let me in.
I laughed. School must have been a half day at her place. I hit the button to buzz her in then took off my shoes and placed them in my closet, which was based on a life I'd decided to get for myself from watching too much TV as a kid. Except for the closet, I needed to stop pretending to be Samantha from Sex in the City and maybe become more like a Charlotte.
Kelly knocked on the door, and I let her in. She bounced in with her straight brown hair in a ponytail and her sharp hazel eyes, clearly not caring about the paint stains on her bargain jeans.
She said, “So you’re pregnant, which means I get my new goddaughter at my school.”
I laughed and waved for her to come in. In another life, maybe I would've stayed in Manhattan and pretended I was someone in society, not the nobody from nowhere that I was. As we sat, my feet uncurled, and I said, “I’m going to leave Manhattan.”
“Why would you do that? You have a life here. You have friends.”
“My work isn’t going to let up because I need time off.” I rubbed my eyes. “The rat race never ends, if I’m honest, and I need to be done."
The twenty-one-year-olds with something to prove were finally going to stop my upward motion to vice president. From then on, I couldn't go twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week anymore, being available for client calls all the time.
